A couple years ago on a beautiful spring day in North Georgia, I found myself itching to go for a walk to soak in the warm rays of the sun and enjoy the nice breeze before the heat and humidity returned for the summer and forced me indoors. When lunchtime rolled around, I locked my computer and skipped the sandwich to catch some natural vitamin D.

It seemed like everyone else in the neighborhood had the same idea. The sidewalks were busier than the freeway during rush hour with people and dogs everywhere. Those who know me IRL know I love dogs, not just my two spoiled pooches, but all dogs. I'll strike up conversations with strangers just because they have a dog with them. I'll often come away from the conversation only remembering the dog's name. (Sorry to all my neighbors who have been on the receiving end of this flaw of mine.)

On this particular day, I left my dogs at home because I wanted a casual non-barking walk (neither of my spoiled pups are calm by any measure), but I couldn't help but admire all the dogs I saw. I stopped and petted some of them because I knew the owners, but most of them I just admired as I walked by. I couldn't help but smile on such a beautiful day with so many dogs around. I couldn't think of a more perfect day than this.

After I finished the loops through my neighborhood, I left my subdivision and walked through this apartment complex that abuts one end of my community. Many of its residents were likewise enjoying the gorgeous day while I walked along the street that trundled through the heart of the complex.

As I made my way along the street, I noticed this incredibly cute Corgi puppy walking toward me. As I mentioned, I love all dogs, but certain breeds elicit some favoritism on my part, and Corgis are one such breed. I couldn't take my eyes off that little furball as I walked toward it. I'm certain I had a smile on my face.

As the pup came closer, I remembered that it had an owner attached to the other end of its leash, and that's when I noticed her. We had a moment when our eyes met, and I don't mean that in a positive way. She couldn't see where my eyes were focused because I had on sunglasses, so it appeared, based on her expression, that she thought I had been staring at her and smiling the whole time.

It was then that I realized she was probably used to men staring at her and I felt a cringe wave crash into me. I decided it would be best to cross the street and continue on my walk. Any explanation would have made the situation more awkward, and I didn't want to ruin my nice walk.

Once I was out of her line of sight, I realized the hilarity of what had just unfolded. She probably thought I was some creepy, old man ogling her while she was trying to enjoy a warm day and a walk with her new puppy when all I really wanted to do was pet the little Corgi.

I never saw that little pup again despite walking through that complex regularly. I think about it every now and then. I bet it's all grown up now. It must be a lot of fun. As for me, I'm now more careful about admiring dogs when I'm on a walk. I have to remind myself to acknowledge the owner before I fawn over the dog so that I don't end up on some neighborhood watch poster as the resident creepy, old man.

In my defense the Corgi was so cute. I think I want one when I'm ready to get another dog.